


dogs & cats living together

by angryscared



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Anxiety, Free Time Events, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, POV Second Person, chapter 4 daily life, hajime pov, minor self-harm (no injuries), trauma flashback but Hajime doesn't know what that is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22130170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angryscared/pseuds/angryscared
Summary: In which Hinata Hajime mostly just tries to distract himself from his impending death by starvation, the recent deaths of several of his friends, and pretty much every other aspect of his life. He does this by creating a few different problems and, completely coincidentally, spending some time with Komaeda.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	dogs & cats living together

This is only your second day in the Funhouse, and you're already doing pretty badly. What's bothering you the most isn't even hunger, currently: you're bored. After waking up in your Crummy Room, you took the chance offered by your collective imprisonment to finally get to know Kuzuryuu now that even he has literally nothing better to do. Taking care not to overwhelm him right off the bat, however, you said goodbye after what seemed like an appropriate amount of socialising, and set out to wander the Funhouse in search of someone to distract you from your insistently growling stomach.

You quickly found Komaeda sat against the wall of Strawberry Tower, having been doing something indeterminable before you showed up to commandeer his attention. He was, as always, ecstatic at your casual suggestion to hang out, and so you sat down next to him. As your hunger-induced lack of energy slowly overtook you, this devolved into you laying on the floor and Komaeda following your example as, apparently, this way he didn't have to look at the mural of Monomi's face. At some point you started using Komaeda's side as a pillow. Depressingly, this might still be more comfortable than the bed you slept in last night.

You make for pretty abysmal company when you're preoccupied and exhausted.

"Do you want to play uhhh... twenty questions?" You've run out of conversation starters, but keep trying in fear of what horrifying bullshit Komaeda might come up with if you left the topic up to him.

"Alright. I've thought of a subject."

"Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

Immediately, both your stomachs make mournful noises. You feel the sound resonating through Komaeda's body.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, Hinata-kun." After a minute of both of you silently staring into empty space, having wordlessly given up on the game, he offers, "I was thinking of Nanami-san's cat backpack."

"Why, do you like cats?"

Your half-hearted attempt at keeping the exchange alive hangs in the air for a bit.

"I've never given it much thought, but I have noticed multiple Ultimates seem to be partial to them, so they must possess some sort of hope." You remember Saionji's cat hairclips, and wish you hadn't. "I, personally, am not sure what people get out of keeping such individualistic animals as pets. How about you, Hinata-kun?"

That's an easy one.

"I like them. My grandparents always had one. They're really cute and relaxing, and when they spend time with you, you can be sure it's because they genuinely like you, you know? Plus, they kill vermin. Before our neighbour got one, we used to get mice around the house," you omit the part where they chewed up the food in the pantry, "but it got rid of them. Though I guess they kill other animals too, and leave them on the doorstep for some reason..."

"Oh, I read somewhere that they're trying to teach the humans to hunt, like they would their own kittens," Komaeda volunteers brightly.

"...I guess it would be messed up to find that sweet, huh. Wait, don't answer that. Anyway, cats do whatever they please and think for themselves, and I've always liked that about them. They're really smart, too. Like, our neighbour's cat loves to be picked up. So whenever we leave the door open to air out the house, neighbour cat sneaks in and lies down on the floor in plain view, just so we pick her up to take her outside."

Komaeda looks amused, from what you can see of his face from this angle. Then he replies,

"I don't have much experience with cats, but I used to have a dog. And I've been bitten by several over the years, so I've gotten used to their behaviour." He glosses right over this troubling revelation, continuing, "I find them quite loveable. They give you attention and affection whenever you need it, and you can make them do what you want. It's not even always as simple as training them - dogs pay close attention to what specific humans do, and react to them according to that. They're not always right about people, of course, but I find their straightforward nature rather comforting. And they're great at noticing things humans usually don't, which makes them smart in their own way. When they're not busy being confused by simple concepts, I suppose, but still."

You lapse into silence again, but a less tense one. You try once more to get comfortable on Komaeda's ribs without jostling him too much, but even underneath the jacket, you can tell that he's mostly bones and so your efforts will be in vain. You'd tease him about it, but even if you and your classmates hadn't effectively starved him for days barely a week ago, this would not be the situation to tell him to eat more.

"Hinata-kun."

You spare him a glance. "Yuh-huh?"

"Wanna make out?"

You roll off his side to get a look at him so quickly that you get dizzy and end up blinking away stars for a few seconds. "Wh-what?!"

"Do you want to make out with me, Hinata-kun." Komaeda's voice is aggressively cheerful, not like the somewhat dreamy, curious tone of the first time he asked. But he's not saying that he was just joking. He's pushed himself up on his elbows, to better match you sitting up on your knees, and he's wearing a blank, polite smile. You think he might be nervous.

You consider the question, momentarily ignoring Komaeda. You catch and identify as many of the emotions racing around your chest as you can: shock, gratification, suspicion, fear, desire and something you can best label as anticipation. Your stomach tries to flip but runs out of stuff to flip halfway through, and you're suddenly uncomfortably aware of all the blood rushing through your veins. The familiar sensation of unreality claws at the edges of your mind, but you manage to pull yourself back out of your head before anxiety can overtake you. Komaeda's sitting up now, and looking concerned. You're reminded of the time you first talked to each other - with him leaning above you on the beach - and, instantly, also of the betrayal that later tarnished said memory. Right, you don't trust him, he's the murder weirdo. Safely back on the solid emotional ground of resentment, you think about the question again.

"Yes, actually, I do," You say determinedly.

Komaeda's expression is unchanged for a moment, then he breaks into one of his many unreadable smiles and gestures dramatically.

"Ah, to think trash like me would have an idea that could interest--"

He stops talking at once when you scoot closer to him to sit precisely beside his legs so that you're facing each other without touching. He's watching your every movement with laser-like focus. Dimly, you're aware of your heart hammering overtime. You lean in with your eyes open, really not wanting to miss. Komaeda's wide, pale eyes flutter closed, and when you take a breath before making contact, he moves forward instead of you. You're kissing. You're kissing Komaeda Nagito, murder weirdo. You close your eyes and concentrate on the feeling.

It's incredible how mundane it is. There's no lightning strike, no swelling music, and nobody pops up behind you to congratulate you on your first kiss. There's just Komaeda's warm, smooth lips and a spot where his ridiculously overgrown bangs tickle your cheek. You can feel his mouth moving a bit without any discernible goal; perhaps he's as clueless you are. But you're probably just projecting, it's not like you can tell whether he knows what he's doing, and oh, you've forgotten to pay attention. You can feel him take a breath through his nose and hear his body shift. He's leaning into you and pressing your mouths more firmly against each other, and this might be more like it.

You automatically reach a hand up behind him to help you get more friction and, after flailing it about for a second, settle it cautiously on the back of his head. You're immediately distracted by his hair: the strands are impossibly fine, and now you're suddenly intensely afraid of breaking this boy, this other human being who has left himself in your care. In the meantime, his hands have appeared on your own body: one hovering on your shoulder, the other on the nape of your neck, sliding cold fingers into your hair. You remind yourself firmly that Komaeda agreed to this, he wanted you to touch him, and that you should be worrying about him hurting you, not the other way around. And anyway, if he'd be as jazzed to get painfully murdered as he keeps announcing, he's unlikely to be bothered by whatever mild physical inconvenience you might cause him by accident. You feel a wave of emotion toward the person uncertainly kissing you: anger, sadness, frustration, helplessness, and still, always, beneath everything, a deep compulsion to understand him.

You're getting the hang of it now, and you feel ready to move on to the next thing. You raise up onto your knees and shift even closer to Komaeda, front to front. You've inadvertently broken the kiss, and so now you've got him dazedly staring at you from inches away while you consider where to sit down. His face may or may not be a little flushed; it's impossible to tell under the pink lights of Strawberry Tower. You're going to have to either straddle his thighs, or sit sideways on top of them.

You briefly consider whether it would be less embarrassing if he sat on your lap instead, but quickly decide you're not mentally prepared to allow Komaeda Nagito on top of you, your slight advantage in muscle mass be damned. You don't really think he'd do anything bad, but you'd rather cling to the illusion that he couldn't even if he wanted to.

While you were thinking about logistics, Komaeda's face has slowly melted into that bored, superior expression that has never failed to send a cold shiver through your entire body, followed by a burning knot in your stomach that lingers for minutes. He's gearing up to say something horrible. You're determined to finally channel this same tension now searing your gut into something productive. You hurriedly cut him off:

"Would you move over by the wall? I don't want us to topple over if I sit on you."

Good, you sound mostly like you usually do. Komaeda's frozen for a few seconds, then blinks and turns on a beatific smile like a light switch.

"Of course, if that's what you want!" His tone is indecipherable. Without skin-to-skin contact blocking out the rest of the world, your anxiety has come back with a vengeance, but you're startled to realise you also definitely want to keep going, want more, want to be closer to this enigma of a person with the soothing presence and the horrifying words, the smiles that make your chest feel so warm and the actions that make your heart go cold. It's not just that he's almost unfairly pretty and that you're probably going to die and need a distraction. Despite everything, you've somehow grown attached to this asshat.

He's resituated himself by the wall, looking at you warily. His words from a moment ago echo in your mind - _if that's what you want_ \- and you feel the need to clarify:

"This is okay, right? You want to keep going?"

He must see something in your face, because after a beat of surprise, he smiles at you adoringly and says, sounding a bit condescending,

"Yes, Hinata-kun."

You quickly plop down on his lap - sideways, as you've decided would be less awkward - and grab him with both hands, your fingers digging into his shoulder in a satisfying way, and then you're pinning him against the wall with another kiss. You can feel him still smiling, but you also still have that heat burning in your gut, and you mouth at him more insistently. He hums something that sounds suspiciously like your name, and slips his tongue into your open mouth. His arms are locked around your waist. This might actually start to qualify as "making out," which is good, because otherwise you'd just be kissing tenderly, and that sounds more dangerous in a way you'd rather avoid discussing. Especially if one of your classmates were to walk in here, come to think of it. You might try not to let what others think of you influence your actions, but you would still hate having to explain this current situation.

While you were busy envisioning somebody discovering the two of you, Komaeda has started licking around your mouth. It's a pretty strange sensation, and you try to go along with it, but you're not at all sure what you're trying to accomplish. He tastes like what must be the strawberry-flavoured toothpaste you saw in the Strawberry House bathroom, but mostly just like saliva.

You try concentrating on his hands instead, which are starting to warm up on your body. One of them has slid up to trace your shoulder blade, while the other keeps you pulled flush against Komaeda's torso. You can feel his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You move one hand over to his neck, and feel his rapid pulse. You're just as nervous, but you'd still prefer him as calm as possible - at least one of you should be. You start stroking his side in what you hope is a soothing manner.

Your tongues are doing something that reminds you of thumb wrestling, only wetter. You wonder whether this is doing something for Komaeda. You're pretty neutral on it yourself, but the dizzying press of warm, living lips and body against yours more than makes up for it. The knowledge that said parts belong to a real, actual person, and specifically to Komaeda, makes the experience exhilarating (heart-throbbing school trip indeed), while the touch and the human presence is supremely comforting. You let go of a sigh that sounds embarrassingly like a moan into Komaeda's open mouth. He breaks the kiss gently and you open your eyes to see him wearing a content, awed expression and then nuzzling your cheek in a playful way.

Suddenly, you feel so absurdly loved that you hurry to remind yourself this isn't about you specifically, only about an Ultimate who was bored and initiated casual physical contact with the boy who would do absolutely anything for any Ultimate. Your face must show you grounding yourself, because Komaeda adopts a more serious expression and kisses you again with newfound determination.

All four of your collective hands are roaming over the back, sides and shoulders of the other. You slip one hand beneath Komaeda's coat from the front, and trace the knobs of his spine over his shirt. One of his still-cool hands has found its way inside your untucked dress shirt, and is now drawing circles on the top of your hip bone. Your kisses are getting sloppy now that you're both distracted, like you're doing it just to stay connected, to share air and saliva. Your fingers play over Komaeda's ribcage, and it's just as prominent as you previously suspected. Even while you're trying to climb down his throat, it feels strangely intimate to touch him underneath the barrier of his ever-present unseasonable jacket. At least it's appropriate attire in the chilly Funhouse, especially with Komaeda's seemingly terrible circulation and no food to heat him up.

You're startled out of your gloomy thoughts by Komaeda squirming infinitesimally away from you and making a tiny noise in his throat. You pull away and follow his gaze down to your hand on his ribs, after which his eyes dart to the side, his face blank. The sudden silence is palpable. He must have disliked something about that. He might be... self-conscious about his body, perhaps? Although your embarrassingly clear memory of him in only swim shorts provides no obvious cause for it... It's probably easiest to give him a little time and then just try to avoid this same thing in the future.

You pull your hand out from beneath his coat and slide it into his hair instead. He gives you one of his customary unreadable smiles and squeezes you lightly, then opts to rest the side of his head against yours instead of going back to kissing you, incidentally also giving the hand in his hair more space to explore. You take a second to wipe your mouth free of spit before moving on to more interesting things.

You carefully comb your hand through Komaeda's wispy hair, your fingers getting caught on some of the irregularly curled strands. You wonder whether he's actually supposed to have some common haircut and it just won't follow gravity, or whether he simply grabs the pieces that stick out and cuts them off whenever his hair gets too long (your own method ever since you first started cutting your own hair). You gently untangle one more snarl, and unthinkingly start braiding the section you're holding between your fingers. Komaeda giggles quietly, and then his voice comes from below your ear:

"Wow, Hinata-kun, you know how to braid hair? Could it have something to do with your talent?"

You decide there's no harm in sharing a little, so you answer in the same low tone:

"Uh, probably not. I actually used to have long hair for a while." You don't specify the duration.

Komaeda considers this information, then inquires:

"Like Souda-kun?"

"I guess, sort of? Except, you know... more brown. And I didn't have the, uh, inexplicable layers on top." It's not like Komaeda will tell Souda you dissed his style. "Anyway, I liked braiding and unbraiding bits of it to keep my fingers busy."

"Hinata-kun with long hair must have been a hopeful sight," Komaeda sighs dreamily.

"...If you say so." You're a bit uncomfortable now.

"Oh, but Hinata-kun with short hair is also full of hope!" he adds hurriedly.

"Sure." You're silent for a minute while you undo the small braids you've made; the delicate curls are less suited to them than your own thick, wavy hair was. You've probably given Komaeda enough of a break, as he feels boneless leaning against you, although it's difficult to tell without seeing his face. You consider whether he's hiding it deliberately, but if you let yourself think about how he might be manipulating you, you'll never get anywhere. Maybe having his hair messed with is simply relaxing for him; it's certainly a more plausible explanation than him faking calm for some nefarious purpose.

You keep one hand on the back of Komaeda's head and give his chest a tiny push with the other. He makes a confused sound, like he's being woken up from sleep, and for just a moment, you feel genuine fondness spark in your chest. He may be a person, but he's an extremely dangerous person, you tell yourself sternly. There's no reason to get mushy about him occasionally acting human. In fact, there's no reason to be so considerate of him, either; you're probably just projecting your own vulnerable state onto him. Whatever this thing you're doing is, it definitely doesn't warrant the attention to the other's needs that a genuine romantic encounter would.

Komaeda's complied with your silent request to move back against the wall, and is now looking up at you expectantly. As is usual for you, the uncertainty of your current situation sends cold tingles throughout your body now that you have time to soak it up, and you feel hyperaware of the awkward position you're sitting in. Your back is getting stiff from the way you're twisted at the waist, and as you look down, an obvious thought occurs to you.

"Aren't your legs asleep? My entire weight is on them."

"Ah, don't worry about that, Hinata-kun," Komaeda chides you. After a beat, he cheerily adds, "But if my legs lose circulation and die, you should definitely cut them off and eat them. You wouldn't even have to murder me if you really don't want to! Ahaha, that is if you could even stomach trash like myself. Still, it might be too much happiness for someone like me to become part of the Ultimates who embody the world's hope!" His eyes are glazed over with imagining this hypothetical scenario, and he's drooling a little. You wish he hadn't brought up eating, but at least his familiar raving has given you something to slap down. You try to sound as exasperated as you usually do.

"Oh my god, Komaeda. Way to ruin the mood."

"There was a mood?" His mouth is agape and still has spit dangling from it, but his eyes are clear and wide. Oof. And here you thought he was at least a little bit into what you had been doing.

"Uh, maybe mood is. Not the right word. Anyway, we still doing this or what?" You hope you don't sound as petulant as you feel right now. You really don't want to stop, but continuing when he's only humouring you holds even less appeal.

Komaeda tilts his head to the side in a perfect picture of confusion, appearing to scrutinise your face for clues on what you're thinking. You stare him down until he finally speaks again, still holding eye contact:

"Well, I was the one who suggested it, so..."

"Is that relevant?" you ask impatiently after it becomes clear he doesn't have more to say. "Do you want to m-make out more," you choke out, certain your face is visibly red even in this lighting, "or would you rather do something else?" You're pretty sure he hasn't had enough of your company, as he's always been obscenely happy to have it before, and there are precious few sources of entertainment available to someone locked in here when you're the only one who ever spends time with them.

"Oh, no, this is fine," he quickly reassures you, giving you a somewhat puzzled smile. Something unclenches in your gut in response to what is a pretty strong expression of preference by Komaeda's standards. You don't usually handle new situations all that gracefully, but the only other person involved having all the social skills of a potato definitely adds a layer of difficulty. The skills of a... brick, you correct yourself before your stomach has a chance to lament its own lack of potatoes, literal or otherwise.

"Right. Good. I'm still gonna move, even if you're fine, or my back's gonna kill me," you announce. You pick yourself up off his lap awkwardly and manoeuvre one of your legs over his thighs, then sit down straddling him. Using Komaeda as a chair poses much the same problem as using him as a pillow did: he's too bony to really get comfortable on. Oh well, you'll just have to take your mind off it, you think to yourself, smirking at him. He really does look as good under you as in your occasional fantasies incorporating the theme, although you were usually more tangibly in control in those scenarios. You blame that time you saw him tied up, aside from your constant frustration with him.

Komaeda's looking up at you with half-lidded eyes and his head tilted slightly back, with a challenge in his expression that usually reads as much more sinister and much less flirty. You realise with a jolt how that recontextualises a few mystifying times he was allegedly joking with you. There is something warm deep in your belly. You lean in abruptly only to press a closed-mouthed, feather-light kiss to his lips. You were right to think this would be more surprising than shoving your tongue down his throat; he makes an indignant noise and follows it up with a quiet whine, cut woefully short probably by what Komaeda has that passes for pride.

In turn, he surprises you by putting his hands on your thighs. It hasn't occurred to you that a makeout session could potentially involve, uh, trousers stuff. You're suddenly aware that in a few minutes, you may have to make an on-the-spot decision about something that you've never thought might be in your near future. And you'd also want to discuss your own situation with your partner beforehand, whom you've always unthinkingly assumed you would actually trust.

You know you've been sitting still for at least a full minute while you were lost in thought, but you're pretty sure everyone on the island is used to your lengthy pauses by now. That must be why Komaeda has been waiting for you with such patience, kissing you gently and moving only his thumbs in a rhythmic motion on your thighs. You decide to focus on what you're doing now, while your partner may not even want to escalate things any further, instead of constructing plans for if he does.

You finally place one hand on Komaeda's cheek and the other on his shoulder. You outline the shell of his ear under his soft hair while you catch his lower lip between your teeth. He exhales a quiet groan and his fingers dig into your flesh. Emboldened, you tighten your grip on his shoulder and start massaging it with your thumb in a circular pattern. His muscles are more sinewy and less springy than your own. You move slowly down to explore his bicep while you worry his lip between your teeth. His hips shift minutely and you're glad you made sure to leave room between your crotches.

As if mirroring your grasp on his arm, his hands are creeping up your thighs in small increments, groping every square inch along the way. While your kissing devolves into taking turns sucking on the other's lower lip and tongue, his glacial progress up your legs finally reaches your ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, and you feel a familiar wet sensation in your groin. You make a noise that sounds a lot like a hiccup as you instantly become uncomfortably aware of how ridiculously turned on you have been for minutes now. Komaeda pulls his mouth off yours, and asks, in an intense, raspy whisper:

"Hinata-kun...?"

You save both of you from him elaborating by nodding and whispering back, feeling yourself blush furiously:

"This is good. Probably nothing more right now though."

He nods. He's smiling kindly, although his eyes are distant and unreadable even as they scan your face. This is when you would usually wonder about a dozen things - like whether that was the answer Komaeda wanted, whether it was even completely honest, what he wants you to do, whether he is enjoying himself - except almost all of your mental capacity is taken up by a fight between the conflicting primal desires of humping Komaeda's fist and of running away in panic.

In the end, though, you know what you want - you want to touch Komaeda, to feel his warmth, feel his heart beating, know that he is alive and paying attention only to you. You feel dizzy and feverish with arousal as you slide your hands from his shoulder to his chest and from his face to his neck, admiring the contrast your tanned fingers make against his fair skin. You lean your foreheads together, keeping your eyes open and puffing out hot breaths onto his face. His body is much warmer where it isn't covered by his jacket; you want to burrow as close to him as you possibly can, where he is warm and calming and human and makes you feel loved.

You watch with fascination as your hand caresses his chest, the slight swell of muscle over the lean torso, the place underneath where his pectorals stop and expose the arches of ribs, the spot where you discover a nipple when you grab him in one hand. He is also staring down at your bodies as if hypnotised, stroking his hands down below the swell of your ass and up above the curve of your waist again and again.

Your fingers bump into his collarbone as you bring your hand down from his neck to touch the plane of his stomach. You're eager to feel him up properly; you think you might have wanted to since the first time you saw him. And then you feel his chest vibrate with some suppressed sound. It's followed by a poorly stifled giggle. And now he's leaning as far away from you as he can with you straddling his lap and his back against the wall, and his eyes are dark and unseeing, and he's wheezing with hysterical laughter, it's shaking his whole body, and he's holding onto himself like he's trying to stop himself from flying to pieces, doubling over and laughing loudly with no mirth and barely any air. You notice that you're a good foot or so away from him where you must have fallen backwards onto your ass. You're thankful you can't see his face under his overgrown hair, but you know what it must look like, the way it looks in your nightmares and in the horrible moments when you blink while looking at him and only see the person who killed two of your friends.

Your heart is hammering with alarming speed and your veins are filled with ice, but you're floating outside your own body, your mind completely blank except the simple thought _this is my fault_ and then _I should have known_. Komaeda's head snaps up suddenly to focus on you without actually seeing you, still grinning mirthlessly and with eyes wet from laughing too hard, and he demands, his voice desperate and unsteady from phantom giggles:

"When will you hurt me?" Without waiting for an answer or even for you to understand the question, he adds, his voice cracking, "Don't touch me!" This time, you have enough time to process the sentence and for a cold hand to pull your stomach down towards the center of the earth and punch your heart out through your throat before he continues, staring daggers at you and shrieking viciously, "When are you hurting me!"

He continues glaring at you, wheezing and shaking and gripping his own arms, until he seems to decide he's not getting whatever answer he's waiting for from you and gives a deep, frustrated growl. His fingers bite into his own upper arms fiercely and his breathing turns into hoarse panting, but he's not satisfied because he grunts and digs one hand into his own hair and yanks hard, and you can see a few of the delicate strands stuck there when he brings his hand down to the sleeve of his jacket and pushes it up and bites down on the muscle of his lower arm, breathing harshly through what must be pretty bad pain, but he seems a tiny bit calmer as he lets go of the forearm bearing perfect, deep teeth marks - although thankfully no blood - because now his movements are slower as he reaches one hand up under his shirt, so far it peeks out above the neckline, and digs his blunt nails into the pale flesh of his chest and drags them painfully down all the way to his stomach, giving a guttural groan. You take the opportunity offered by the following pause for breath to hold out both your hands in front of him, palms up, and rasp out,

"Komaeda, grab my hands."

His breathing still laboured, he takes a long second to direct his gaze to your hands, although his eyes are still unnaturally dark and uncomprehending. He growls through an unhappy grimace and grabs onto your wrists instead of your hands, immediately digging in all his nails. He looks momentarily stunned when this results in nothing except small crescent-shaped indentations in the soft flesh of your wrists (well, if you succeeded in biting back your pained grunt, anyway), and he follows the line of one arm slowly up towards your face, blinking a few times before he seems to finally break through whatever barrier was separating him from reality, and he actually looks at you.

This lasts all of half a second before he starts giggling hysterically again, looking an inch to the right of your face, and then the tears he has had in his eyes since the beginning of his breakdown finally overflow and he's still mostly giggling but now he's also heaving great painful sobs and you haul him up onto your chest by your joined hands and stroke his wrists and hum soothing noises to him while he laugh-cries whatever has been stuck inside him out into your dress shirt.

It takes several minutes until even the giggles die down completely and the only sounds to be heard are Komaeda's soft sniffles. It's only then that you pry your wrists out of his grip and prompt him gently to lean to the side, quickly resituating yourself to settle his head in your lap. With a flash of inspiration, you pull up his hood for him. Then, seeing his sleepy eyes flicker to your hand, you give it to him, and he is out like a light with your hand clasped in both of his to his steadily beating heart. You prop yourself up on your free arm, and try to keep your sigh quiet.

So this is what happens when Komaeda finally fails to keep himself together, huh. You wonder whether this was only his second scary laughing fit on the island, after the one at the first trial. On the one hand, he's usually alone, and it could even be possible for him to leave most social situations while he's still repressing the giggles, if he wanted to. On the other hand, the events you find most stressful tend to occur in company - upsetting information is usually either relayed by somebody or, if it comes from one of the plushies, delivered to the whole class. And, at least this time, you think, trying to keep guilt out of your reasoning, it seems to have been caused directly by you. Still, two points of data don't constitute a pattern, and you might discern more information by examining this particular episode than by more general speculation.

The problem seems to have been you touching him. Was it specific to you? The only time you can recall having seen anybody touch Komaeda is when he was suffering from the Despair Disease, although Nidai and Souda must also have done so, when they tied him up. Neither occasion was at all normal, so they indicate nothing about Komaeda's reaction to regular, casual human physical contact. Did you yourself ever previously touch him as you would a friend? You can't remember doing so before learning his true nature, and this was definitely the first time since then - your animal need for comfort overriding your distrust of him. But even now, he was completely fine with it for a good thirty minutes at least; he's completely fine with it now, cuddling close to you with your hand still held in his unconscious grasp.

...Well, he was fine with it except for that one instance he made it known he wasn't, and you didn't understand what was bothering him and then eventually got distracted by horniness. Hot shame bubbles up into your empty stomach. You should have stopped, or at least asked him what was wrong. You probably shouldn't have agreed to make out with the mentally unstable kid in the first place. Him being willing to go on didn't mean he was okay. It might have meant that with an entirely rational person, but somewhere along the way, you forgot that Komaeda Nagito is the furthest person from rational that you've ever met and definitely can't be trusted to keep his own safety or well-being in mind. What's a little hair-pulling freakout compared to asking people to murder you, after all, you think with a twinge of hysteria. You're boiling with anger, at yourself, at him, at this messed-up situation where you can't even have your first kiss without having to coax your partner through a crying jag afterwards.

You take a calming breath and gaze up at the darkness shrouding the ceiling. Self-pity will help you even less than guilt; you wanted to understand Komaeda better, and this is your chance.

He first freaked out when you touched his ribs, and next when you reached for his stomach. You know he didn't have anything unusual in that area when you got to the island, and you couldn't feel anything weird about it either (other than him being skinnier than average, but that was true of all of him), so the most likely explanation would be psychological. Is there some difference between those and his back or neck or chest, none of which seemed to bother him? His neck would be more vulnerable, and his nipple would be more sensitive. His tummy area might be more ticklish...

Frustrated, you set aside this line of investigation and focus instead on what he said during his breakdown. _When will you hurt me, don't touch me, when are you hurting me,_ right? He seemed to actually wait for your answer at the end, so what did he want you to say? His phrasing suggests that you hadn't hurt him yet, that's something. You had been making an effort to keep him comfortable, even when it got hard (ha ha, Hajime, grow up) for you to think; you froze instantly when he made the first weird noise. So the evidence should have been telling him that you weren't going to purposefully hurt him, now or in the future. Did he want you to affirm that...? But earlier, he hadn't expected you to ask whether he wanted to continue, and he told you not to worry about whether his legs were asleep.

Your stomach lurches painfully and you look down at the boy sleeping on your lap as you think, did he want you to hurt him then? Come to think of it, that would explain the way he rephrased his question, as well as him hurting himself when you failed to do so. So was that what he wanted all along...? But he seemed to be enjoying himself, not just in the physical reaction sense (please, Hajime, don't pick now to think about any physical reactions you may have noticed Komaeda sporting); he was an active participant the whole time, and made happy noises (best not think about the specific noises either, Hajime) and smiled uh... about as convincingly as he usually does? You close your eyes and lean your head back, huffing out a sigh. Komaeda is nothing if not an expert at faking cheerfulness, and teenagers aren't exactly known for their discerning sex drives. This isn't much help either.

So what other leads do you have? You haven't considered his motivation yet, that most thorny of issues when it comes to Komaeda. Why did he suggest making out, and why did he want you to hurt him? He does often suggest you or one of your classmates hurt him, but not as an end in and of itself. Your instincts say that if that was what he asked when he broke down, that must have been the point. So was that what he was trying to accomplish in the first place in some roundabout manner by making out with you? You feel cold as you force yourself to consider whether you come off as someone who would hurt the person he's making out with. But probably not, right? And he let you direct things as you wanted. Just like he let Hanamura direct the first murder as he wanted, your mind whispers to you, making you queasy.

But that's not correct, is it? It's just the ever-present urge to blame anything going wrong on Komaeda, to declare him a master manipulator and completely unknowable, to say he's just crazy and that's all you could possibly understand. The majority of your class, but especially Komaeda himself, seem content to ignore that he's still a person, still has strengths and weaknesses and even - god help you - feelings, still in a similar situation to everyone else on the island. That has never sat right with you, quietly accepting that there's an unpreventable disaster waiting to happen, walking around in the shape of a human. You would rather die trying to fix a problem than trying to ignore it.

So. Komaeda didn't tell you what to do or share any information that would make you more dangerous to him. He simply doesn't seem to have been attempting to make you harm him in any way until his fit. The only conclusion you can draw is that he wasn't. So were you wrong about him wanting you to hurt him, or did something change toward the end? Was the sudden desire to be hurt the result of his breakdown, not the cause of it? Come to think of it, the first thing he asked was _when will you hurt me,_ so perhaps at the time he wasn't impatient for it yet, he just wanted to know the answer. As one more piece clicks into place, you're horrified to glimpse an aspect of yourself in Komaeda: when he was faced with the question of when you would hurt him, he would rather have had the worst possible outcome and roll with the punches than live with the uncertainty.

Your theory is now neatly laid out in your head. You (although it could probably have been anybody) touching Komaeda made him expect you to hurt him. When he couldn't take dreading it anymore, he first tried to trigger it, then, when that failed, simply used hurting himself as a substitute. Your chest aches and you wish you didn't have to face this, didn't have to live on this island of painful truths and upsetting friendships.

Your one-man pity party is interrupted by rhythmic clanging sounds, approaching down the corridor leading to Strawberry Tower. You consider how fine you are with being seen acting as Komaeda's pillow, but ultimately anything's better than waking him up and hoping he doesn't complicate matters for the first time in his life. As soon as you can catch Nidai's eye outside the door (it could only have been him), you put a finger to your lips and throw him a pleading look. Asking Nidai to be quiet isn't much more promising than asking Komaeda to chill out, but the last hour or so of your life has proven you can handle a few difficult social situations.

To his credit, Nidai appears to make an effort to walk more softly, although he only succeeds in interspersing the same crashing sounds with longer silences. You bend down a little to peek under Komaeda's hood: he doesn't show any signs of stirring. He probably used up a lot of energy with his breakdown, and he can't have much to spare. You look back up at Nidai, now at speaking distance.

"Hey, Nidai. What's up?" You address him in a loud whisper in the hopes that he'll follow your example. You have no clue what he thinks about the scene before him.

"Hinata!" Nidai shouts in the loudest whisper you have ever heard. You know he was able to whisper properly while he was flesh and blood, but that must be pretty low on the list of things he misses about it. Or maybe the list just consists of shitting. This cheers you up. He goes on:

"A while ago, Owari told me that you and Komaeda were giving each other massages here! So I, NIDAI NEKOMARU, Ultimate Masseuse, was moved by your interest in that noble pursuit! But then I thought Komaeda might use the opportunity to try something dangerous! Is that why you knocked him out? You didn't kill him, did you? Because that would be TERRIBLE, GAHAHA!"

You think you might have experienced the full range of human emotions during Nidai's short whisper-shouted speech. Everyone in this class is so goddamn weird.

Thinking about it now, you might have been lucky that nobody interrupted your makeout session earlier - with a twinge of grief, you remember the fuss Kuzuryuu kicked up over finding Tsumiki sleeping on top of you, and Souda for one would have certainly screamed his head off upon discovering his "soul friend" kissing the person haunting his nightmares (and that you were into boys in the first place, but you feel no need to shield his delicate feelings from that part). Did Komaeda see anybody walk in on you two? He spent a good length of time in a position to do so. You struggle to find the image embarrassing, but mostly you just find it hilarious. At least it distracts you from the horrifying reminder that some of your classmates would be all too happy for Komaeda to be killed if not for the issue of having to execute the blackened.

"No, he's fine - well, fine for him - he's just sleeping. But, uh, could you do me a favour, could you bring me," You try to recall your mother's practical tips for crying, "a big glass of water, and some tissues? I think he might have a cold or something," You add hurriedly, in no mood to discuss what actually happened.

"Oh, would you like some of my special cola or tea instead?" Nidai asks eagerly. "I still have large reserves of the instant powders I use to make them!"

"No, that's okay... _Wait,_ are those food? Did you have food all along?" You struggle not to lean forward and dump Komaeda to the ground.

"Ah, no, they have no calories in them, it's only flavouring." You let out a short groan while he scratches his neck awkwardly and completely pointlessly. "But I would be happy to help out my classmate with water and tissues!" You're pretty sure he means you and not Komaeda, but you can't blame him for it. "Leave it to the Ultimate Team Manager, NIDAI NEKOMARUUU!" He starts clanging out of the room, still bothering to soften his steps as much as he can. You smile at his back. Well, he's still a pretty good guy, if a bit strange. And unnecessarily mean to Komaeda, but then again, so are you.

Now that you're functionally alone again - Komaeda not even having stirred despite the ruckus you were making - your mind drifts back to your investigation. If you're right about what set Komaeda off (and you're aware that your deductive skills are far less effective when you have only your fallible memory to rely on and nobody to bounce ideas off of), the ultimate source of the issue is probably the fact that people usually only touch him in... unpleasant circumstances. Granted, you don't know whether that was true before the island, but considering Komaeda's personality, you can only assume people kept their distances from him then too. Plus, he's implied he's had some bad stuff happen to him (although in a manner so vague it barely qualifies as information), so he may have had more outright bad experiences with physical contact than most.

You look down at the uncovered half of his face (a red nose boasting a visible snot bubble, kiss-swollen lips parted to compensate for his lack of nasal airflow, and some messy hair, pale pink in this lighting), wishing he already knew the solution to this problem and gave you slightly patronising but annoyingly helpful hints like he's done several times now. Still, even if his good puzzle-solving skills worked on stuff like this, which you highly doubt, you're absolutely sure they don't extend to his own life troubles, given his ingenious "getting murdered" plan.

...Wait, even if you figured out a solution to Komaeda's theoretical fear of being touched, what would you do with it? You're not his life coach, you're not even really his friend, not anymore. It's not your place to interfere with him and, more importantly, you have no reason to do so. Even he, weirdo that he is, would be unlikely to initiate another makeout session, however seemingly alright the first one might have gone before going horribly wrong.

Damn. That's right, you won't be making any choices regarding your sex life or lack thereof anytime soon. It sounded like such an exciting (get it together, Hajime, that's not even an innuendo anymore), adult decision. On the other hand, not letting Komaeda near any of your more delicate body parts is objectively much safer - possibly for both of you, considering his recent behaviour.

You can hear Nidai coming back down the unnecessarily long corridor to Strawberry Tower. You wonder why anyone would design a building like this, then remember how proudly Monokuma spoke of it, and decide to stop wondering. The Funhouse must be one of his additions to Jabberwock Island. You might be willing to try to understand Komaeda, but you draw the line at treating a homicidal teddy bear like a person.

"Hinata! I have brought you supplies!" Nidai shouts enthusiastically and as quietly as he seems to be able to get. He bends down carefully to hand you one of the plastic mugs Strawberry House provided for brushing your teeth, full of water, waits while you set it down on the floor, then deposits a packet of tissues in your only hand not held hostage by a gently snoring teenager.

"Hey, Hinata, uhhh, thanks for keeping an eye on Komaeda," he continues once you have collected your items, his eyes on the wall above your head. "I feel much better knowing somebody's watching him, ya know? And if he's feeling unwell, I guess we shouldn't let him suffer needlessly..." He trails off, evidently conflicted about how much consideration Komaeda merits.

"You're welcome. And thanks, Nidai, seriously," you reply, touched. You feel strangely validated in your choice to take care of this disaster of a human being, even though altruism was pretty low on your list of priorities when you decided.

"You're welcome too! Then, if you're really not in any danger, I'll leave you to it!" He beams, and gestures noisily toward the doorway.

"Sure, we're fine here. See you later." You smile back at him, and watch him distractedly as he leaves, accompanied by intermittent clangs.

Why _did_ you decide to stay and help Komaeda recover, anyway? After all, your first instinct had been to get as far away from him as possible, and never see those horrible, unseeing eyes again, never hear that unhinged laugh. You definitely felt responsible for triggering his behaviour (because you objectively were responsible), and you didn't want to subject anyone else to him when he was freaking out, but surely he would have eventually calmed down on his own. Maybe even faster, without the cause of his breakdown right in front of him.

But... You knew what he needed; you recognised something in him. Or, more accurately, you didn't recognise it. When a tidal wave of genuine fear swept away your calculated mistrust of him, you were left with the absolute certainty that this wasn't Komaeda, you _knew_ him and this wasn't him. He wasn't acting or lying or trying to manipulate or hurt anybody. He simply wasn't in control of himself, and he needed help. You yourself may be prone more to curling into a ball in the nearest corner until you get oxygen again and less to screaming and clawing your skin off, but the experience of losing control of your emotions was a deeply familiar one. You merely presumed that because _you_ were always begrudgingly grateful for a sympathetic presence during and after, Komaeda would be too, but it was still the best guess you had.

Thinking about it now, his words from the beach a seeming lifetime ago float up in your consciousness: _There's no way I can leave someone alone when they look that pale!_ He had stayed, so it only made sense for you to stay if you wanted to help him. That's all there is to it, you reassure yourself: you knew how to help, you thought he could use a link back to reality, and so you helped. Taking action has always come more naturally to you than leaving things be, even if it was more work. What you did wasn't about Komaeda at all, you conclude with relief.

Speaking of him (well, if ceaseless internal monologues can be called speaking, Hajime, you dork), how is he doing? Now that you're no longer worried about possibly liking him as a person, you can feel the concern you've suppressed bubble up inside your chest. Deciding it'll jostle him less than you bending down to peer into his face, you take your free hand and flip his hood back enough to see his eyes. Eyes that blink back at you with comical deer-in-the-headlights shock.

"Fucking hell, Komaeda, you're such a creep." To your surprise, your voice sounds more exasperated than angry. "How long have you been awake? ...Wait, you _were_ asleep in the beginning, right? Jesus."

"Good morning, Hinata-kun." Komaeda's voice is even raspier than usual, and his red-rimmed eyes and obviously dripping nose ruin the effect of his customary carefree smile. "Um, I think I woke up to Nidai-kun laughing very loudly at something?" He screws his eyes up to the ceiling in bleary concentration. "Ah, now that you've caught me, could I have those tissues? I'm even more disgusting than usual," he says with apologetic resignation.

"Yeah, come on, get up." You're not bothered by having him lying on your lap, exactly, but you'd prefer not to conduct a lengthy conversation with your groin constituting his natural field of view.

Komaeda picks himself up with some reluctance (he probably feels cold without you as his hot water bottle), but he's eager to clean up his face. You make him drink the water, although it might be too late to prevent a dehydration headache - you've never been exactly sure how that works. Now that Komaeda seems to be back to his regular self, it feels kind of embarrassing to be seen fussing over him. You glance at him sideways as he combs through his fringe with his fingers, trying to pick out something that might or might not be dried snot. For a pretty boy, he's sure an ugly crier, you think with the vicious satisfaction of someone who has always looked completely average at best.

"You don't have to stick around if you don't want to, Hinata-kun," Komaeda breaks the silence in a conversational tone. "I know Nidai-kun implied you should, but it's not your responsibility to endure my company to prevent me from doing something you wouldn't approve of." He's smiling serenely at the air a foot to your right.

"Sure, because my friends dying is fine as long as I'm not responsible." You roll your eyes so forcefully your head mimics their trajectory. "If you're so keen on me leaving, why exactly did you keep cuddling me?" You don't expect him to give any satisfying answer, but mutual teasing is the one part of your dynamic you have always been completely comfortable with, and he's harder to fluster than you are.

"Ah, Hinata-kun expects too much of me if he thinks someone like me wouldn't take advantage of every minute I could spend in his wondrous presence," Komaeda replies with a gently chiding expression, finally looking at you in order to gauge your response. He's back to normal, or at least back in control. You feel weirdly accomplished, even though you don't technically know whether you helped him at all.

"Damn, Komaeda, you're so low maintenance it's no wonder I still spend time with you despite all your horseshit," you reply with a grin, cheerfully glossing over everything that makes Komaeda's company mildly concerning at best and absurdly dangerous at worst. His complete lack of standards really does make him rather freeing to be with; he showers you with cloying amounts of affection even when you don't bother with trying to keep him happy. You usually prefer being nice to people, but letting yourself say some of the unkind thoughts trapped in your head without feeling guilty about it is still a relief.

"Of course, there'd be no point in concerning oneself with the well-being of garbage like me," Komaeda shoots back happily. "It would be very strange for somebody to go out of their way to do so, wouldn't it, Hinata-kun? An Ultimate, especially, would surely know better than to waste their precious energy like that." His eyes shine as he smiles at you pleasantly. You have no idea what he's thinking.

"Yup, they'd have to be put in some pretty unusual circumstances to make them do something so out of character, huh." All that time you spent meditating on Komaeda's recent breakdown stops you from giving him shit about it (he definitely didn't do it on purpose, and it was far worse for him than you, anyway), but you're not letting him pretend you were the one who started acting weird.

"Oh, but surely nothing that I might do could make an Ultimate lose their composure to such an extent. Everyone knows to expect disgraceful behaviour from me." He waves a dismissive hand in the air.

"I didn't say it was disgraceful, just unusual. Ultimates can't see into the future either - well, who the hell knows, but nobody here can - they still get surprised by stuff. Stuff you do included." He can't seem to decide whether he's bashing you or himself, but he's not getting away with either.

"Ah, I see, surprising things can make people let filth like me - how did Hinata-kun put it - cuddle them."

"You're not literally more dirty than any other person. If somebody is confident you wo-- _can't_ harm them, I don't see why they wouldn't let you get close." You're starting to get irritated by Komaeda criticising your choice to stay and comfort him when he was the one to suggest a much more intimate activity, although you really should have expected it.

"How about if I told them not to touch me and then attacked them, Hinata-kun? Do you still not see why they wouldn't?" Komaeda looks up at the ceiling and touches his chin, as if deep in thought.

"Not if they waited for you to make contact, I wouldn't. And I thought we established the Ultimate knows you can't hurt them." You feel the need to elaborate. "For example, I've been scratched by some real experts - my grandparents used to have a cat who liked climbing up people's legs to get to their laps instead of jumping up, he was weird - but even having a full-grown cat hanging from claws dug into your knees is completely bearable. _You_ don't even have, like, dead animal bits under your nails, so even if you somehow broke skin with them, it wouldn't get infected or anything. It'd bruise at the very worst. You'd have to really try in order to be able to injure me-- uh, an Ultimate."

"Still, what would be the point? Why would anyone risk even slight discomfort just to make someone as repulsive as myself touch them, if I gave every indication they shouldn't?" Komaeda looks infuriatingly unfazed by both the sheer absurdity of his argument and your growing agitation.

"Oh my god, Komaeda, you saying something isn't every indication of it and you know that. You have, like, body language and, and context for what you say and stuff! I can't pretend I understand what you're thinking, uh, almost ever, but I can tell when you're acting weird-- I mean, acting a different weird! Just because you think you're not worth our attention or that we hate you or whatever doesn't mean we don't notice things about you." You punctuate yourself by pointing an index finger at his chest.

"Ah, _things_ about me, I see." His smile is so fake you feel like you could pull it right off his face if you reached up. "Excuse me, I think I'll be going now."

You stare in disbelief with your arm still hanging in mid-air as he gracefully unfolds himself into a standing position and rights his rumpled clothing. Of course he would give no explanation or even excuse; god forbid you actually understand why he does the things he does. It's not like he would have anywhere else to be, not in here.

Still, he's entitled to his solitude, especially after what must have been a pretty tiring social situation for him. Softening, you call out to him as he turns to leave.

"Take care of yourself, Komaeda, all right?"

You can't see his face as he replies, quietly, almost to himself.

"Hinata-kun is too nice to me."

And then he's striding swiftly out of Strawberry Tower, leaving you with only an empty plastic cup and the dried stain on your shirt where he had cried into your chest.

After a couple of minutes, you reluctantly follow Komaeda's example - there are precisely zero things to do in Strawberry Tower, and the virtual pet on your e-Handbook can only entertain you for so long.

Exiting the corridor, you glimpse Kuzuryuu sat leaning against the wall of the Final Dead Room. Judging from his expression, he's obviously noticed you and Komaeda coming out of the same room. You think of the way he spits _pervert_ when talking about Komaeda, and quicken your steps toward the nearby bathroom.

You put back the mug Nidai had brought you, and then take off your shirt to rinse the front. Thankfully, your tie seems okay; if you ever learned how to clean those, it's one of the memories you can't recall. You sling your shirt over a shower curtain rod to dry, and wash up while you're here anyway.

Speaking of while you're here... You glance around surreptitiously, and then immediately feel silly for doing so - as if it made any difference. You lock yourself into the stall furthest from the door, and finally, _finally_ grab your crotch through your jeans.

You choke down a groan as your previous absurdly heightened arousal comes back into sharp focus like it had never left. It doesn't usually take much for you to get off, but for once, you feel like it might be worth it to draw out the experience if you can.

_If_ being the operative word; your mind flashes unhelpful images of shining eyes and pale skin and lips sucked vivid red by your own mouth, and you're sticking your hand down the front of your underwear as soon as you manage to undo your belt, before you can finish without touching yourself. You washed your hands in cold water a minute ago, and your chill fingers conjure ghosts of other ones, the ones that stroked your neck and your shoulder blades and the curve of your ass not an hour prior, the ones attached to a warm chest and bony limbs and unreadable smiles. As muscle memory takes over the motions of your hand, you think of the throaty way Komaeda says your name, way too often and almost fondling the syllables, of the small noises you coaxed out of him by touching him, the groan and the hum and the whine, and the small thrill of accomplishment you felt with each.

You start running out of material to replay from the makeout session, so your mind starts spitting out your past fantasies involving Komaeda: first up is him on his back with his hands tied above his head and you on top of him, touching-- and here the scene grinds to a halt to be replaced by empty eyes and breathless giggles, the result of your most similar real experience. Okay, the rational part of your brain tells you while your stomach does a nauseating somersault, let's try something different then.

Now imaginary Komaeda is wearing all his layers again, and you're both upright, and his hands are on your ass, and you lean forward and bite down on his shoulder muscle and suck, and he makes an obscene, inarticulate sound. You watch his eyes roll back into his head while you reach your hand up his shirt and scratch him across his torso as hard as you can, and suddenly he has two fingers inside you, wait, not there, you're on your hands and knees and his fingers are pumping your lubed-up asshole, and actually this is a fantasy so you're also fucking his face, thrusting alternately forward into a hot velvet tongue over hard teeth and back into cool fingers filling you to the brim. He never does manage to hold his tongue for long, you think deliriously as you teeter on the edge, and then you're fighting through the fog of orgasm to keep your knees from buckling against a short eternity of muscle spasms.

...Sorry about using your self-harm method as jerkoff material, Komaeda, you think silently in the vague direction of the upper floors, feeling like laughing and crying at the same time. It can join the pile with your memory of Tsumiki's soft, warm body pressed against yours from when she was using you as her alibi. You crumple onto the closed lid of the toilet and start licking your hand clean on autopilot. At least _this_ probably has some calories in it, you think, finding it suddenly hilarious. Everything is floaty and out of focus, and you feel kind of sleepy. That's why you'd usually masturbate on your bed, Hajime, you chide yourself. My room is in the girls' house, though, and has far worse soundproofing than this bathroom probably does, you reason, closing your eyes. You'll resume real life once the afterglow has worn off.

**Author's Note:**

> the title is apparently from Ghostbusters (1984) but I've never seen it so I'm just referencing the quote (human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria! etc.)  
> this is the first piece of fiction I've written uhhh ever, so constructive criticism would be very welcome! if you have any opinions about what I should tag, I would especially love to hear that. if I ever get around to uploading more chapters (I have more written but I'm excruciatingly slow) I'll update the tags, but I don't want to put too much information in them that the text itself doesn't make explicit. also I can provide like, places to skip and summaries if you want to avoid specific stuff in the tags if there's literally any demand for that. stay safe folks, love you lots


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